


Peaches

by HerbertBest



Category: 6969 - Ninja Sex Party (Song), Ninja Sex Party (Band)
Genre: Angst, Childbirth, Death in Childbirth, F/M, Guilt, Loss of Virginity, Scent Memories, Shame, Tragedy, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 05:18:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11752866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HerbertBest/pseuds/HerbertBest
Summary: Kristen's changed, abrupted life, interpreted through scent memories.





	Peaches

He smells like summer peaches. He smells like something ripe, fresh, lush, and no one smells like anything here – or maybe they do, like white noise, or like snow – she’s never been allowed to be this close to someone. Maybe he smells this way because he’s special – not of here, not one of them. An angel, blue and bright.

Maybe she’s wrong. Do angels smell like anything? Or are they forever exempt from human exertions?

She doesn’t figure out that it’s all a con job until he’s sweating and screaming over her. But then again everything’s different from that perspective.

**** 

He really smells like smoke, thickly acrid, leaving the bed, leaving her alone with his – friends? She didn’t ask any names in her haste, in her thirst to learn and understand her body, his body, and their bodies.

Now the idea of being touched by anyone feels like a repulsive notion, a sign of her failings. She thought this meant something three minutes ago. She thought maybe they’d be friends at the very least. 

She takes a long, hot shower and spends a long time staring at the ceiling. The world explodes and implodes outside, but here she is alone.

*** 

Everything smells like blood.

Like burning reliquaries or flesh, like sacrificial rites screamed at the sky. She is in agony, swollen to bursting, and doctors cluster around her jabbering like birds. They aren’t used to the natural way.

This is the dark side of the moon, the opposite of the sunshine she’d experienced for four seconds. 

That heavy cloak they call pregnancy, this childbirth, is indescribable. The horrible agony that washes her away stings, like a lark’s sweet song drowned by the dull thud of progress.

A broken curse and a fairytale for an orphan howling beside a dead mother.


End file.
